Page 19 of Beanful Wishes

“Jake, it’s so good to see you.” She pulls up a chair. “And you must be Sophia.”

The women shake hands.

“I’m glad you reached out about Mr. Thompson’s wish,” Elena says, turning to face me. “I have a couple of ideas to make this work.”

“I’m all ears.” I lean back, eager to hear what she has in mind.

“What if we organized a community book drive?” Elena says, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We could collect book donations and funds for the Reading Oasis. the Bookworm’s Haven could serve as a drop-off point for donations, and we could host a series of fundraising events—author readings, literacy workshops, that sort of thing—to garner support.”

I nod, already seeing the potential. “I like it.”

“And the book drive could be another way to bring the community together.” Sophia is perched on the edge of her seat, taking notes on her phone.

Elena nods. “I’d like to donate a selection of books from the store to kick-start the project. I’m also willing to work withlocal authors and educators to curate a diverse and engaging collection for the Reading Oasis.”

Sophia’s thumbs fly over the phone, her journalistic instincts in full swing. “This is fantastic. We could make a big impact at the local schools.”

We spend the next hour discussing logistics, brainstorming ideas for the book drive, and considering fundraising events. Elena’s passion is contagious, and I find myself getting more and more excited about the project.

“What if we incorporate some interactive social media campaigns?” Sophia asks. “We could do live Q&A sessions with authors, virtual book club discussions leading up to the main event. It would help us engage a wider audience.”

I can’t help smiling at her enthusiasm. This is the Sophia I admire—creative, passionate, always thinking about how to make the biggest impact.

“That’s brilliant,” Elena agrees. “It would help spread the word and get more people involved.”

As we wrap up our meeting, I feel a surge of optimism. This could open up new worlds for students who might otherwise struggle with reading. It’s exactly what I hoped the Wishing Wall would inspire.

“Thank you both for your help with this,” I say as we stand to leave. “I can’t wait to tell Mr. Thompson about our plans.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind a big social media campaign and getting the station involved in reporting this?” Sophia asks. “I don’t want to steal your spotlight.”

I put my arm around her shoulders without realizing what I’m doing and pull her close. “I don’t mind one bit.”

Mr. Thompson gestures around the classroom, outlining his vision for the Reading Oasis. Sophia stands beside me, jotting down ideas in her phone.

“I’m thinking we could have themed reading corners,” Mr. Thompson says. “Maybe a fantasy nook with a miniature castle or a science corner with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.”

I nod, already picturing it. “Something like that would spark the kids’ imaginations.”

“What about an interactive mural? We could depict famous literary journeys, like Dorothy’s trip to Oz or Frodo’s quest to Mount Doom,” Sophia says.

Mr. Thompson’s face lights up. “Yes! The students could add to it as they read new books. It would be a visual representation of their reading adventures.”

“Maybe a bulletin board instead of an actual mural.” I look around. As fast as the ideas are flying, we’re quickly running out of blank wall space.

As we continue brainstorming, I’m in awe. This is exactly what I had in mind when I put up the Wishing Wall. People coming together to create something meaningful, something that could change lives. Like it had for me.

“You know,” I say, as Sophia and I walk out of the school building, “this is what I’ve always envisioned, not just for the Wishing Wall but for our community. A hub that fosters meaningful connections and change.”

Sophia looks at me, her eyes soft with understanding. “It’s what you’re creating at Coffee Loft. “

“Trying to,” I say.

“What inspired you to start the Wishing Wall in the first place?” she asks as we make our way across the parking lot.

I take a deep breath. “When I was a young teen, someone gave me a helping hand when I needed it most. It changed my life. I’ve always wanted to pay that forward, to create a space where people could help each other, even if they didn’t know each other personally.”

Sophia’s hand brushes against mine in a brief gesture of support. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to, but I’m curious who this helping hand was.”

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